One Look At You Read online

  “Remember when I went to your place to return the curling iron?”

  “But you couldn’t have seen him,” Mel says.

  “I didn’t see him. I saw his car,” Jen says with satisfaction.

  “Two years ago, Mark and I slept together after we got drunk at a party.”

  Now Jen and I both gasp.

  “We vowed never to say anything to you guys because it was a mistake. Nothing more.” Mel’s eyes soften as she tells the rest of the story. “After the infamous Alicia episode, though, we sort of started texting and calling each other. One night he came to the apartment with a bottle of wine and take-out food. It was a pleasant dinner until we just started talking about stuff from the past. I don’t know what came over me, but I just leaned over and kissed him.” Mel’s cheeks are pink and she looks like a woman in love.

  “Are you in love with him?” Jen asks softly.

  She shrugs her shoulders, but it’s clear from her expression that she feels something more than friendship.

  “Do you know how Mark feels?” I ask gently.

  “Sometimes I think we’re just friends with benefits but, once in a while, I catch him looking at me in an odd way. See, this is why we didn’t want to say anything! Obviously, we’ve ruined the chemistry of the group.” She looks so sorry that I reach out for her hand.

  “Mel, you can’t help what you feel. Jen and I will be very happy for both of you if you decide to be in a relationship. But we certainly won’t judge if nothing comes of this.”

  “Thanks, Livie. And I do hope you sort things out with Tony.”

  “Never mind that. Isn’t it obvious to you yet that I’ve been dismissed from his life?” I ask, my mouth twisted wryly.

  Nobody says anything for a few seconds. “Macaroon?” Jen asks as she lifts the plate in our direction.

  We all laugh at her attempt to inject humor in what is surely a depressing conversation.

  ***

  It’s the day of the Masquerade Ball and I’m about ready to pass out from all the nervous tension of the past few days. Truth be told, I’m feeling proud of the way I’ve managed to address all the last-minute issues. I stood up to some of the managers (and their underlings) who were trying to bully me. Even the chef and interior designers for the affair have given me their grudging respect. Tony sent a brief email last Tuesday, saying his mother is better but that he’s choosing to stay by her side till she’s fully recovered. So, I faced the wolves alone. Mom was right. I’m stronger than I think I am.

  “Are you almost done?” Jen is shouting through the closed door. I was losing patience with her nagging so I banished her from my room while I prepared for the ball. She’s my driver for the evening, so she’s anxious about getting me there before everyone starts to arrive.

  “Get off my back, Jen!” I holler back. I had my hair and make-up done at the local salon so I know I don’t have to worry about that. My hair falls in soft curls and my make-up is understated. I’m wearing the gown now and teetering in Mel’s four-inch designer sandals. As a finishing touch, I put on Jen’s necklace and then pirouetted for a final look at the full-length mirror. When I see my daringly exposed back now, though, I’m panic-stricken, thinking I won’t be able to pull it off.

  “Ready?” I say as I open the door.

  Jen stares at me open-mouthed.

  “Do I look okay?” I ask her anxiously.

  “Livie… you’re so beautiful.”

  I smile in relief. “You don’t think the bare back is too much?” I ask.

  “Don’t say that. You’re perfect. You don’t even understand how gorgeous you are tonight.” She says it with such earnestness that I give her a grateful peck on the cheek.

  “I’m gonna take a snapshot of you and send it to Mel and Mark.”

  “Do you have to?”

  “Yes. If Tony sees you tonight…”

  “Jen, let’s not do that. Besides, he’s still in Brazil. I’m doing this for me. I want to feel good about myself after the battering I’ve received.”

  She aims her phone and takes a picture, then attaches it to a text message and sends it to both Mel and Mark. “Where’s your purse?”

  “I almost forgot.” I quickly grab the little gray minaudiere clutch from the bed.

  “What about your mask?” she asks again.

  “What would I do without you?” I go to my dresser and get the classic black Venetian masquerade mask with pink rhinestones.

  Jen takes my hand and leads me to the car inside the garage. She carefully lifts the hem of my gown and arranges it as I get in.

  “Don’t drink tonight,” she warns me like I’m a child.

  “You think I haven’t learned that lesson?” I ask jokingly.

  “I wish I were going to be with you to make sure you’ll be okay,” she says.

  “I’m not a child, Jen. Nice try, though. You know I still don’t have the clout to let you in without a ticket.”

  She giggles and gets in to drive to the venue.

  ***

  “M’lady, have fun tonight. Remember, you don’t have to run back home when the clock strikes twelve.”

  I give her a withering glance.

  “A little Cinderella humor. Will you relax? You’re too wound up.”

  “Thanks for everything, Jen.” I turn sideways to give her a tight hug.

  As I alight from the car with my purse, she says, “Don’t forget to put on your mask.” I do as she says and wave goodbye to her as she goes. I slowly climb up the steps, still a little wobbly in my high, high heels. The welcome table outside the ballroom is still empty since the staff are only starting to trickle in.

  The ballroom is decorated in elegant splendor. Breathtaking mural paintings adorn the walls, much like in the tradition of a Viennese castle. The tables are covered with white tablecloths. A massive floral arrangement is in the middle of each table, with plates, cutlery, and wine glasses reproduced in the pattern of the 18th century. The interior designers have certainly outdone themselves. Now it is up to Chef Keller to deliver a gastronomic feast fit for all the very demanding celebrities who are coming.

  I go to my station at the welcome table and find myself immediately surrounded by my co-workers.

  “Livie, you’re stunning!”

  ‘Thanks,” I say dryly, feeling like Cinderella now.

  I start to distribute some the badges and final instructions, feeling conscious about the admiring looks and whispers behind my back. I am flattered by their remarks, but all the extra attention is making it more difficult for me to focus on my task.

  At half past seven, the guests start to arrive. I busy myself handing out badges to those who are already in line.

  “Liv,” I hear Liz calling my name as she nudges my elbow. I briefly look at her to find out what she needs.

  “Don’t look now,” she says, “but Ross Rickman has been watching you like a hawk since he arrived.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! He’s probably looking at some of the other celebrities,” I whisper back to her. Ross Rickman is one of the five most highly-paid actors in Hollywood. He is also the top choice for most romance pictures because of his boyish good looks and charming personality.

  I steal a glance in his direction and it does seem like he’s staring at me. I shake my head. Liz has gotten into my head and my suddenly-inflated ego.

  The lines move slowly, but I notice Ross Rickman switching to the line I’m in charge of. When it’s his turn, I greet him with a smile, “Good evening, Mr. Rickman. Here’s your badge, sir.”

  “Thank you, and it’s Ross,” he says in his distinctive voice. “Perhaps you’ll reserve a dance for me tonight, Ms. Harris.”

  I’m taken aback by his statement, but I carefully screen my expression. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Duty calls. I’ll be at this table for the duration of the festivities. And, it’s Olivia,” I add cheekily.

  With a slight bow, he leaves to join the rest of the attendees.

  �
��Hot!” Liz says as she jokingly fans herself with her hand.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday, Liz. When the clock strikes twelve and I turn into a pumpkin, he won’t even deign to speak to me.”

  “That’s harsh, Livie. I really think he finds you attractive. He was eating you up with his eyes.” I laugh at her description and we both continue registering the guests.

  An hour passes and the high-ranking executives of Gallo’s have entered the ballroom. Mr. Gallo was gracious enough to pass by our table and express his gratitude to the staff. The biggest celebrities are now seated at their tables inside. Through the speakers, we can hear the emcee start the ceremony. I’m near the ballroom door talking to the security personnel who have just informed me that a teenage couple tried to crash into the party. Suddenly, there’s complete silence from the welcome table, as someone seems to have made an entrance. A warm hand touches my bare back and I smell the familiar bergamot and cedar scent. I turn around and his warm lips touch my cheek. I can feel everyone’s eyes upon us.

  “You’re back,” I say rather lamely.

  “My mother’s settled back home and I didn’t want to miss this.” He looks around and says, “Tio Maximo has already called me to say that you’ve done a fine job with this year’s ball. Apparently, you single-handedly micro-managed every detail,” he says with a smile.

  “I wouldn’t say that. Everyone pitched in.”

  I examine his face openly and see that the past few weeks have changed him. There are age lines about his mouth and eyes, and his cheeks are hollow from the weight he’s lost. His profile is still strong and rigid, though, and he looks devastatingly handsome in his custom-made tuxedo.

  He gazes at me with such sensual intent. I try not to react, but I can feel the hunger in his look, all the way to my core. His beautiful gray eyes darken as he stares at the neckline of my gown and the outline of my breasts. Why is he doing this? We’re over. Does he want to draw blood, because there’s nothing more I can give.

  “Excuse me, I have to go now,” I say in a neutral voice.

  “Livie, we have to talk,” he whispers pleadingly.

  “No, Tony, we don’t. You probably should be joining your table now. I have other things to attend to,” I say coolly.

  I turn around to go back to the welcome table and he goes inside the ballroom. My knees buckle and I sit down, holding onto the edge of the table for support.

  “Are you alright, Liv?” Liz asks solicitously.

  “Yeah. Just a bit tired.”

  ***

  At nine o’clock, I ask all the staff to join the ball. Liz, Kent, Cassie, and I are left at the table because, as past experience has shown, ticket holders still continue to arrive long after the ball has begun.

  One of the security men approaches me to say that I’m wanted inside the ballroom. When I ask him why, he just shrugs and escorts me inside. Ross Rickman walks towards me and extends a flute of champagne in my direction.

  “Olivia, you look like you could use a drink.”

  Not wanting to be rude, I take the glass and say my thanks. But, as I turn to go back, he touches my shoulder and I have no choice but to face him again.

  “One dance. That’s not too much to ask, is it?” he asks, flashing that million-dollar actor smile.

  “One dance, Mr. Rickman, and I shall have to go.”

  He looks like a child who has just received a toy on his wish-list, so I can’t help but smile as I join him on the floor. After a sip of the champagne, I give my glass to one of the servers with trays. They’re playing one of my favorite tunes, so I start to dance to the rhythm. When the song is over, the band plays slow music and I have no choice but to follow his lead as he puts my arms around his neck and then wraps his arms around my waist. I laugh as he tells me a quick joke, but midway through the dance, I see Tony coming our way with a scowl on his face.

  Instinctively, I move back from Ross’s arms and then see Tony bend to whisper something into my partner’s ear. Just like that, Ross gives me a curt nod and lets Tony take over.

  “What did you say to him?” I whisper fiercely into Tony’s ear.

  “I told him to get his own partner,” he says.

  “But I was his partner.”

  “You’re mine. No one else can have you,” he says in a soft voice.

  His words incense me. “You have some nerve,” I say a little more loudly this time. I try to leave, but his arms are locked firmly around me.

  “Let me go.”

  He ignores me and holds me even tighter, molding my body to his. My whole body responds to his warm hands on my back and the hardness of his limbs.

  “You’re making a scene. Please let me go.”

  He is deaf to my pleas. “Why are you doing this?” My voice breaks in anger.

  His eyes roam over my face. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he says. Slowly and seductively, his gaze slides downward. My heart jolts and my pulse starts to pound. He bends to whisper his need for me in such raw, filthy language. I gasp in shock and then a tiny moan escapes my lips. I can’t keep fighting how I feel. I can’t say no.

  Just then, the ballroom door opens and she pauses, searching the room. “Izabel,” I say quietly.

  “Livie, not now. We’ll have time to talk later,” he says in a pleading voice.

  “No, I meant, she’s coming our way,” I say in an emotionless voice.

  “Oh no,” he groans, then turns around and leaves me on the dance floor to go and meet her.

  I keep my head high as I scurry to the side of the room and quietly exit. Will you never learn, Olivia Harris? I am weak. It doesn’t matter what he does. It doesn’t matter what he says or doesn’t say. One look is all it takes.

  I find Liz at the table. “Liz, I’m not feeling well. I’m sorry to have to ask this of you, but can you please take over for me?”

  She looks like she wants to ask me something, but instead she quickly says, “Sure, go home and rest. You’ve done enough for one day.” I touch her arm in thanks.

  I take out my cell phone from my purse and call Jen. “I want to go home,” I say, as tears threaten to stream down my face.

  “I’m leaving right now.”

  I sit by the planter box at the entrance of the venue. In twenty minutes’ time, I see Jen driving up. I get into the car without saying a word. I am wracked by sobs, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably from my devastating heartache.

  ***

  I toss and turn all night. I am so exhausted, but my mind and body won’t let me sleep. My cell phone rings at two in the morning. Thinking there may be a problem with the clean-up at the ballroom venue, I answer.

  “Livie, are you okay?” he immediately asks.

  “Why won’t you let me be? What do you want?” I’m abrupt to the point of rudeness but I don’t care.

  “Can we talk? I’ll send Lucas to pick you up.”

  “Is it talk that you want or early morning sex? Where’s your wife? Oh, let me guess, you just want sleazy, no-strings-attached sex with me. Am I right?” My voice steadily goes up in volume.

  “Livie, it’s not like that,” he says forcefully.

  “That’s what it looks like to me, Tony. You crook your finger and you want me to come running. You’re feeling horny, and you want to play out your fantasies with me. Why? Because you think I’m easy and available… Not anymore. Go call someone else in your little black book. Better yet, why don’t you just be faithful to your wife? I don’t want to play your games anymore.” I hang up and slam my phone on the bedside table.

  I’m still fuming after half an hour, so I decide to turn on my laptop. I type a letter of resignation addressed to Margaret, and I copy Tony. I don’t want to leave this way, without even a two-week’s notice, but I really have no choice since Tony has made it impossible for me to work there.

  I email John, apologizing for my hasty resignation. I wish him and Ana the best, but make it clear that, unfortunately, I won’t be coming back.

  At four
in the morning, my eyelids start to fall. I cover myself with the blanket and finally sleep my sorrows away.

  CHAPTER 13

  I become aware of the alarm continuously ringing. I reach for my phone and see that it’s already eight o’clock. I must have hit that snooze button so many times. I groan, feeling slightly drowsy from lack of sleep. For an instant, I can’t recall what day it is. Then it hits me, that it’s Monday. However, unlike other Mondays in the past, there is no need to rush. I can take my sweet time since I am now officially a member of the unemployed community.

  Time was, when I would daydream about how I’d spend my day if I won the lottery and didn’t have to work. Right now, I actually can’t think of anything I want to do – other than, of course, search the job sites. I grab the notepad and pen next to me and start jotting out my to-do list. First item on my list – update resume. My pen is stuck in mid-air. I can’t seem to think of anything else that I should urgently attend to. Hmm. Perhaps a cup of coffee will help, so I put on my robe and go to the kitchen to make a pot.

  As usual, Jen is running late, but she’s busy preparing coffee like she has all the time in the world. She smiles when she sees me joining her. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

  “Jen, I emailed my resignation early this morning. Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure I find a new job immediately.”

  “I’m not worried. I know you’ll find something. If you don’t, I can take care of the expenses while you get back on your feet. Then you can pay me back.”

  “Thanks, Jen. I had to resign. You understand, don’t you?” I look at her with concern.

  “Livie, what’s the matter with you? No explanations necessary.” She pours coffee into our mugs and hands me one.

  “Thanks. I’ve had little sleep, but I know I have to get started on the job search.”

  “One or two days of resting won’t matter. You deserve it anyway after working so hard on the Masquerade Ball. I’ll reach out to my contacts in social media. Maybe they’ll know of an opening somewhere.”